


Reassurance

by GallifreyisBurning



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fic and Chips, Ficlet, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e07 The Idiot's Lantern, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyisBurning/pseuds/GallifreyisBurning
Summary: When he closes his eyes, the Doctor is haunted by the memory of her featureless face, framed in pink and yellow and utterly devoid of everything that made her Rose.Post Idiot's Lantern.





	Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> In response to @doctorroseprompts for October 2018: Tenth Doctor month/first kiss

When he closes his eyes, the Doctor is haunted by the memory of her featureless face, framed in pink and yellow and utterly devoid of everything that made her Rose. When they’d found her, he’d been driven by outrage; motivated to the point of madness. When she’d been restored, his relief and joy had been overwhelming. Once she’s turned in for the night, however, the adrenaline of the day flees his system and he’s left only with the overpowering urge to reassure himself that she is okay, that she is back, that she is Rose again. Every additional second that she is out of his sight, he becomes more sure that he’s dreamt her recovery, and that the form in the bed down the hall is merely a blank slate where the girl who had saved him from himself used to be. 

And so he finds himself, weak as he is, hovering in her bedroom doorway, watching her sleep. He knows that he should go, that she would be disturbed by his presence here, but he can’t bring himself to look away. She looks so peaceful. She is curled on her side, her fluffy duvet pulled up under her chin. Her long lashes brush her full cheeks; her lips are parted slightly; her golden hair is plaited messily. He wants, badly, to reach out and touch her; to assure himself that his eyes aren’t lying to him. Resisting the urge, he turns to go.

His movement must have disturbed her, however, because from behind him he hears Rose’s sleepy voice: “Doctor? You okay?”

“Go back to sleep, Rose,” the Doctor whispers gently, looking back at her over his shoulder with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“S’alright,” Rose replies. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine,” the Doctor assures her, turning the rest of the way to face her directly. “Really,” he adds, as she narrows her eyes at him skeptically.

Rose continues to observe him for a moment before maneuvering one hand from within her plush cocoon and patting the space next to her on the mattress. “C’mere,” she orders.

“No, really, Rose, I’m okay,” the Doctor protests.

“Don’t make me get out of bed and come get you myself,” Rose warns, “I’m very comfy and I’m going to be extremely grumpy if I have to come after you.” The Doctor rolls his eyes, but Rose continues to glare at him through sleep-heavy eyes until he sighs in resignation. Toeing off his trainers, he climbs onto the bed, settling on top of the comforter on his side, facing his stubborn companion. “Much better,” Rose murmurs, her satisfaction at her victory audible. She pats his shoulder with her freed hand, her eyes drooping closed again.

The Doctor’s hand seems to move of its own volition. Gently, he runs his fingers across the curve of her forehead and down her soft cheek. She hums quietly; a contented sound. His hand wanders — tracing her eyebrows, ghosting over her closed eyelids, trailing over her nose, and softly caressing her full lips with just the barest touch of his fingertips. 

Rose exhales softly. “It’s okay, Doctor,” she murmurs softly, her eyes fluttering open once again. “I’m okay. I’m here.” He closes his own eyes briefly and gives the slightest of nods in acknowledgement. She takes his hand from her cheek, where it has come to rest, and brings in to her mouth, kissing his knuckles gently. “It’s okay,” she repeats, barely audible. And then she leans toward him and presses her lips against his; a brief, warm moment of reassurance and understanding before she pulls back and reiterates once again, “everything’s okay.”

If the Doctor had allowed himself to consider what their first kiss would be like (well, their first real kiss, where they were both active and willing participants), he would have said that it would be a thing full of passion; a dam breaking after years of pent up flirting and caressing and knowing better. It would have involved bruised lips and dueling tongues; nipping teeth and gasping breaths and grasping hands. He would not have predicted this quiet moment of tenderness and compassion; sleep-warmed skin and knowing eyes and the sense that this was something that had happened a thousand times before this moment and would happen a thousand times after.

The Doctor’s hearts ached with gratitude for the small, shining human lying beside him. Leaning back towards her, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and then the tip of her nose, and then to her lips, returning the promise she’d made just moments before. Sighing happily, Rose curled up to him, tucking her head underneath his chin, their clasped hands held between them. Dropping one final kiss onto the top of her head, the Doctor let his eyes drift closed, and this time he saw nothing but the stars.


End file.
